can a frustrated single mom and failed big city journalist save her family and salvage her career by returning to a town run by a gang of bungling thugs?


“The Resurrection of Puerto Cielo” is a novella published in serial form, 43 posts.




23


“Who Is Angela Morales?”

It was late in the empty Star office when Espy had found the answer to this question. The ledger sheet Alvin had given her showed that Angela Morales was a city employee, getting a monthly paycheck. She was listed as a “personal assistant.” 

Assistant to who, wondered Espy, until she saw the note scribbled at the bottom of the page.

“Angela Morales is the mayor’s mistress and what she gets paid for has nothing to do with city government.”

“Yes!” Espy had shouted into the silence, then wrote the story that was now the talk of the town.

***

The Zorros were back on the streets, furiously pedaling, handing out the latest edition of the Star.

***

In Mama G’s, the ladies in the Circle were aghast. 

Such scandal right here in Puerto Cielo!

“Things are going to get hot around here,” Gina said as she placed the coffee on Eddie’s table.

He put the paper down and looked up at her smiling face. She was enjoying this.

He nodded. He had a sinking feeling that the old days of status quo were history.

***

Across town at the Red Rooster, Ricky looked at the Star headline and smiled. Yes, he thought, change was in the air.

***

Pepe drove the white Caddy into Puerto Cielo and onto Main Street. Sitting in the back seat, top down, Mayor Roddy was all smiles.

Oh my, he fantasized, the things Angela could do to him.

Twack!

The folded paper hit Roddy full in the face. Stunned, he looked around.

A boy on a bicycle smirked and pedaled away. 

Wasn’t that the boy he’d seen defacing his billboard?

Roddy opened the paper.

His eyes exploded and he boiled over.

Now they’d gone too far. Something needs to be done.

He made a call.

***

“Mitch, you’re a magician.”

Espy was standing beside Barbara at M&M Motors, listening to the engine purr, a strange sound never heard in the years she’d owned the car.

Mitch just smiled. He gently let the car’s hood down until it softly clicked in place, “Don’t be a stranger now. I love to work on the classics, anything that doesn’t have a computer in it.”

Kids on bikes were buzzing in and out of the station, loading up on copies of the Star to deliver around town.

“Hey Mom!” Gabe yelled as he rolled by, with Arnold, in the front basket atop a pile of papers.

Arnold barked his greeting and the pair rode off.

Espy slid into her oddly quiet vehicle.

“Well, Esperanza Diaz, your ‘Star’ is certainly lighting things up in Puerto Cielo,” Mitch said as he closed Barbara’s two tone door, “don’t stop now.”

“We’re just getting started,” and a noiseless Barbara pulled away.

***

Patrolman Castillo listened, then said, “Yes, I know what to do.”

The phone clicked off. Castillo considered. He’d never heard his uncle so angry.

Watching Esperanza Diaz drive away from the gas station, he revved his motorcycle and took off in pursuit.

Barely two blocks into town, Espy heard the siren and saw the flashing blue light in her rear view mirror. Pulling over, she stopped and watched Patrolman Castillo park his motorbike behind her, dismount, adjust the heavy equipment belt around his ample waist, then strut, with due importance, to her open driver’s window.

“Driver’s license,“ he said curtly.

Espy calmly opened her purse and presented the license.

Castillo studied it carefully, then handed it back, requesting, “Registration.”

Espy rummaged through the glove compartment to find the document, then passed it to the policeman.

Again, Castillo carefully studied the form with no comment.

Espy noticed that Barbara was now surrounded by a swarm of bicycles. The Zorros had arrived.

“Hey, Castillo, heard you stepped in shit the other day,” taunted a voice from the crowd.

The cop looked about but only saw a pack of kids laughing at him.

Espy asked, “Just why did you pull me over, patrolman?”

Castillo hesitated, then answered, “You made an illegal turn, didn’t use your signal. I’m going to have to site you for reckless driving.”

“What! You’ve got to be kidding!”

“This is a serious offense. We don’t tolerate such lawlessness in Puerto Cielo,” Castillo responded as he wrote out the ticket.

The kids around him started jeering, then the voice again, ”Castillo, the only girl who’s ever going to go out with you is your dog.”

The cop almost lost it. How dare they talk about Poopsie that way. But he wasn’t going to let these punks get the best of him and he kept on writing.

A phone rang. Castillo looked around, realized it was his phone, and answered the call.

He listened, then, “Yes, I understand, where?… Right away!”

Castillo tucked the phone back in its pocket, put his ticket book into his belt and hurried to his bike. He mounted it, kicked the starter, revved the engine and put it in gear. The Zorros parted to make room as the motorcycle, spraying dust and gravel and sounding like a hive of angry hornets, hurdled forward.

He’d gone perhaps forty feet when the line stretched tight, the speeding bike snapped to a stop and Castillo was launched up and over the handlebars. His body did several cartwheels through water filled potholes before coming to rest in the middle of the street.

The crumpled cop groaned and rolled onto his knees. The street was empty, although laughing voices still echoed about. Then he saw the rope tied to the back of his bike, the other end securely fastened to a large tree.

The Zorros had been busy as Castillo wrote out the phony ticket. And one of the kids had called his uncle who was sitting with his two brothers on a bench in front of the 3 B’s. Gus was quite happy to make trouble for Patrolman Castillo.

The sheriff had seen it all. Parked in a nearby alley, he’d heard Gloria’s emergency call and knew Castillo had been pranked again. There was no holdup at the beach drive taco stand. 

Eddie shook his head as Castillo struggled to his feet.

He almost felt sorry for the guy.

***